


Reach Heaven By Violence

by Cleophidian, Garuda, Iceyprincess, OmniscientTrees



Series: Heaven Will Be Ours [1]
Category: Fate (Roleplaying Game), Heaven Will Be Mine (Visual Novel)
Genre: Existential Angst, F/F, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lesbians in Space, Mecha, Other, post-celestial mechanics ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-16 16:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cleophidian/pseuds/Cleophidian, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garuda/pseuds/Garuda, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iceyprincess/pseuds/Iceyprincess, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniscientTrees/pseuds/OmniscientTrees
Summary: Six years after the rebels of Celestial Mechanics turned the Lunar Gravity Well inside-out, and put an end to humanity's role in space, the new unified space program founded to understand and confront an actualized alien threat to Earth is long dead. Its three children now pick over its corpse for scraps. Each faction has a radically different vision of humanity's future in a world that no longer belongs to them, and each will fight to the last to ensure that their particular flavor of extra-terrestrial diplomacy is realized.It is the eve of humanity's second civil war in space, and three young women, brought together by circumstance, will come to shape the course of human history. Luna willing, they'll get into some hot-blooded mech fights and sloppy makeout sessions along the way.





	1. Session 1 - Saturnine

**Author's Note:**

> All characters portrayed by the Gamemaster/[Garuda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garuda/) (GM) are in plaintext black.  
> Characters controlled by [OmniscientTrees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniscientTrees) \- including, but not limited to, **Ceres** \- will be in red.  
> The characters that are played by [Iceyprincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iceyprincess), primarily **Io** , shall be in this shade of green.  
> [Eljhared's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eljhared) characters, such as **Metis** , use this blue color.
> 
> Please try not to read this fic/logs on your mobile phone. Apparently the colors don't quite work.

The three of you are called into one of the _Atlas'_ many compartments; this one is an office. Where the respected and valued flotillas get briefed on the bridge in front of everyone, you and every other untested team get briefed away from sight, but recorded, as a matter of course. Who is your overseeing officer, and what is your relationship with them?

Ceres' supervisor (with respects to the nebulous, often contradictory hierarchy that makes up her faction) is the same woman who assigned her to research division back in the Zeus Imperative, three years ago now, when she still went by a different name: Vanth, one of the eldest members of the Challengers of Apollo. Ceres regards Vanth much like an overbearing parent, despite the fact that Vanth has usually seen fit to let Ceres conduct herself in combat however she pleases. She also slightly resents the fact that her supervisor knows so much about her, and her past before joining the pilot program.

"You're all here. Good," says Vanth, tapping her paper files. She passes them out. You already read through them on your personal terminals, but there was no information on how to use it and what is expected of you.

Io stands at attention to her technical superior. She has other superiors, mostly in Ares Program, but she's still, technically, bound to the same organization. A cross-faction team like this was unusual to her. But Io's time with Ares has drilled within her a certain amount of military professionalism that she upholds, taking the paper and quietly looking over it. She avoids looking at her long-term rival, standing at her side. Her relationship to Vanth is rather professional. Io is somewhat suspicious of the woman, and tends to only deal with her as much as necessary. Vanth isn't on the same side as Io, even if they're united against the alien threat. Not by a long-shot.

Metis probably knew Vanth the longest of the three of them, from back in the old days before the Zeus Imperative was even an idea. She probably would have known her better too if her abnormal relationship with her own gravity had become apparent back when Vanth was one of the project managers for Celestial Mechanics.

"At ease, soldier. Have a seat," says Vanth, a little smile on her face. "Ladies, what we have here is loss. Loss of matériel and supplies as transported by Anemoi Shipping Corps. They pass through one of the local nebulae, we lose communication, and suddenly their cargo bays are all empty. We've got nothing on the recordings, sensors, etcetera. Witnesses are unreliable, because all they see are ghosts."

"Do you two remember back when nebulae used to be boring untouchable things a million light-years away? Didn't that suck?" says Ceres, grinning savagely at the two beside her. “Space is so much more interesting now."

"Better to be a dog in times of peace than a human in times of war, soldier," says Vanth, somewhat sighing.

Ceres rolls her eyes, as if to say, _"whatever," _but doesn't fire back.__

Io frowns at the paper, and tactically ignores Ceres. "What's the actual assignment, Ma'am?"

"Your assignment is to convoy with Anemoi Flotilla Zeta-5 on their next shipment at 0800 hours. You're all cleared for combat and special tasks, so you must ensure that the shipment reaches the _Atlas_. Find out what is intercepting our supply stream. If there are enemy craft, sink them. But priority one is the goods. Bring them in on your backs, if necessary."

"Very well ma'am, but if I may ask, is there any reason that the three of us have been assigned to this particular task?"

" _Finally_ someone says what we're all thinking." Ceres glances pointedly at her rival.

Io actually does look at Ceres at this point, shooting her a glare.

"To put it bluntly, everyone else is doing something more important. You're all kind of unstable bitches and we need to see what you can do. If we lose the Anemoi shipment, we'll deploy you again and again until we see what's what."

Ceres groans. She'd forgotten how her old supervisor could be, sometimes. "Right, right. Fair point."

Io looks offended, but bites her tongue metaphorically. She is not an unstable bitch! She is one of the most stable bitches here! Someone from Ares would respect her! She doesn't say any of that, of course, instead just nodding. "Very well."

"Any other questions?"

"Yeah, uh. The Apollo command isn't gonna take issue with me deactivating the _Catenae's_ dampeners near the flotilla, right?"

Io takes a deep breath. "I could probably just do it alone, Ma'am. You don't need to assign all three of us to this."

Ceres recalls the looks she'd gotten back from the newly-rebranded Apollonians after the mess she caused helping against the coup. Having both Io and Metis here is _not_ helping.

"Io," says Vanth with a sigh, "you're one of our best warhorses, but you **know** that's fucking stupid. Nobody ever goes out there alone. _Ever_. Doesn't matter what for. We can't have rogue pilots going around doing whatever the hell they like. It's world policy."

Io frowns, looking hard at Vanth. "You know it's not a good idea to send me out there with _her_."

Before it can escalate, Metis cuts in. "I'm sure that the three of us will be able to put aside our history and ensure that the shipment arrives safely," she says with an even tone, while at the same time shooting both Io and Ceres a look that says _‘We'll talk about this later.’_

Ceres bites her lip, nervously, but doesn't contradict her ex-girlfriend.

Io quiets down.

"Any other relevant, useful questions?"

"Dampeners. Last I heard, you guys didn't take kindly to your pilots spontaneously defecting to the inverse in my glorious presence."

"There's no call for that. If we need it, we'll let you know. Also, stop talking about it, you're going to get court-martialed for treason." You sense that if you continue to mention your dampeners, open secret though it be, your life will be significantly more complicated.

Ceres suppresses a groan. Like hell she'll stay out of the inverse if things get interesting. Not that she's gonna say that out loud.

Io mutters quietly under her breath something about how she should already be court-martialed. "If that will be all ma'am, we will take our leave and begin preparations for the mission."

"That will be all, dismissed, get outta here, we all got stuff to do," says Vanth, standing and walking out.

"...I am so going to deactivate the dampeners the moment we leave the hangar," Ceres says the moment she thinks Vanth is out of earshot.

This compartment is locked. You know from the minute gravity resonances that you are not being recorded currently; the equipment is set to stop recording after briefings are over, that others may use it after the fact. Zeus Imperative skimped a few costs. You may speak freely, so long as you do not start shouting. People around are doing things.

Io stands up. She starts to walk out of the room, before realizing the door is locked. She sighs, and turns to face the others; most particularly Ceres. "Can you...can you just not? Like, for once in your life, can you just stop fucking things up for everyone else?"

"Why, scared you'll get space cooties from the big bad alien mech?" Ceres mocks, suppressing a laugh.

"I'm worried, mostly, that you'll destroy what we're meant to protect and attract a bunch of your 'friends,'" Io says, with some obvious venom. Ceres' association with the inverse is a major point of contention between the two.

"Can the two of you please stop fighting for thirty seconds? Please? Look, I know the two of you have this 'thing' going on, but didn't you hear what Vanth said? If we fail at this they're going to keep sending us out together, which means the two of you are going to be stuck together for longer. So can we please be at least a little bit more amicable?"

Ceres beams. "I'm pretty sure Io would just love it if we were _stuck together_."

Metis grabs Ceres by the ear. "Please stop antagonizing her, sweetie."

"Get i- AHH holy fuck fucking shit fine FINE yes-" Alas, Metis knows all of Ceres' weak points.

Io falters a bit, going a little flustered. "I- Look, I'm fine, it's Ceres that has the issue. I just need her to not do anything crazy and stupid on this mission, alright? Just- Please, keep this simple, don't go flashing your gravity all over the place and everting or something."

"Simple. Right. Yes. That."

Metis clasps her hands together and smiles. "Good."

Io sighs. "Right. Let's just go," She turns and starts unlocking the door to move on.

Just as Io leaves, Metis turns and hugs Ceres as tight as she can, before leaving herself

* * *

You set sail from the Atlas and rendezvous with your Anemoi flotilla. They are a group of five. Ixion, Uz, Chaos, Aten, Hergé.

Contrary to her earlier statement, Ceres did not deactivate her tidal dampeners "the moment she left the hangar." For some reason, she seems to be slightly better behaved than usual. It definitely has nothing to do with the blush that's been plastered on her face ever since Metis hugged her. Nope.

_Loki Patera_ drifts in the void, the bold white-and-orange color scheme that all Ares ships have standing stark against the blackness of space. Perhaps once it was once shabby, run down, forgotten- but the _Loki_ has cleaned up beautifully during her time with Zeus. It stands tall, head turned to scan the distance, the horns on its head vibrating ever so slightly with the gravitational fields of the others. Its sharp, angular armor plating gives the impression of a warrior of old, and the lines that cross its surface look nothing like circuits- rather, its flowing, organic curves, glowing slightly with the energy that runs through them. Inside, Io grips the controls white-knuckled, intently focused on the readouts that dart across her vision. Inside the _Loki_ , Io is tense, and nervous, but she doesn't let that show on the outside.

Hergé hails you on the comms. "Good to have you, _copains_ ," he says, with a slight French accent. "We're ready to begin our run."

"Roger. Ready when you are. Metis, guard the flank, I'll do the same. Ceres, can you guard the rear?" Io rambles off over the comms, semi-professionally.

"I'm always on the rear," says Ceres, making an absolutely terrible half assed-joke.

"Sounds good, make sure your eyes are on your gravitational sensors- not your physical ones."

"I know," Io says, flatly, "Alright, Let's get moving."

_Samhain Catenae_ falls into formation silently at the rear of the convoy. Which raises the question of how one can be "silent" in space when everything is already so quiet, but as the fourth generation of pilots is all too aware, some things are best explained by metaphor.

As the convoy begins to move, Metis partially ignores her own advice and keeps half an eye each on her two companions.

The convoy begins to approach the Shun Nebula, long strings of glimmering gas that resemble chains for some reason. One of the Anemoi enter the Shun Nebula. And then disappears. Within seconds, another disappears as well. And another. And another. Within less then a minute, the three of you are alone. What do you do?

Io looks towards where they disappeared. "What- Why did they just barge in?" She mutters over the comms, before sighing, and just...flies into the nebula boldly, flying about to try and see where they've disappeared off to.

The moment she registers the first convoy ship disappearing, Metis focuses all her attention onto her sensors, scouring for even the tiniest disturbance in space/time/culture.

_Samhain Catenae_ itches. Ceres' metaphorical fingers hover over the metaphorical dampener release key, but she resists, for now (the _Catenae_ of course has no _actual_ keys, nor in fact mechanical controls of any sort — it is controlled by a semi-organic cushioning substrate that receives bioelectrical signals directly from the embedded pilot's skin).

"The fuck did they go off on their own for," she hisses, bitterly.

**_"They're not very good pilots,"_ **says a crackling voice on the comms. _" **We never are."**_

Ceres, and her ship-self, jolt upright in unison. Which with her passive camouflage looks more like the stars winking out around a triangular shaped void.

"Well, hello there," Ceres says, engaging the remaining offline active stealth systems one-by-one.

As you fly close to where the targets are, you detect the five courier ship-selves, disabled but unharmed. You also detect another five craft; smaller, lither, almost animalistic.

 ** _"Prominence at your service, ma'ams,"_   **crackles the voice on the comms. **_"Broadcasting from near the sun, your in-field support for Zeus Imperative."_**

"Sol, you mean. It hasn't been the Sun for a very, very long time, now. Not for the likes of us, at least." _Samhain Catenae_ almost grins, bloodily. 

**_"Nobody tells me anything, ma'am,"_ **says Prominence. **_"Anyway, looks like the lot of you have five bandits to deal with."_**

Floating within the nebula, _Loki Patera_ tenses. It reaches its armored hand down to the interwoven mesh of crystals at its hip, the _Loki's_ gravity dancing across its body, warping light just enough to distort its image as the energies charge, the crystals drifting away from each other, a few breaking off from the formation to float around the hand.

"Look alive," Io says grimly over the radio. "Hostiles."

Io clicks the frequency over, and broadcasts over all frequencies. "Unknown Ship-Selves, this is _Loki Patera_ , I will give you one chance to surrender and give up your stolen goods before hostile action is taken!"

New voices click over the comms. "Oh look, gang! They actually sent us people to play with!" The five bandits disengage from the couriers and emerge out of the clouds, pink dripping from their hands.

You recognize the shape of the ship-selves. Who wouldn't? Five mass-production-model _String of Pearls_ sail close to each other, ready to lend support to each other at a moment’s notice.

"We..." begins a husky, older woman's voice. "...are the Saturnalia. Pirates of these new stars. We're not surrendering on your terms, but maybe we'll surrender on ours."

“I am Telesto,” declares that same voice from the red _String of Pearls._

“Polydeuces,” says the one painted black, barely visible against the ever-dark sky.

“Surtur, sword at the ready,” the orange one says, as a challenge.

“Pandora, checking in,” chirps the _String of Pearls_ in blue.

“Hi, I’m Titan,” says the green ship-self.

"Clearly, you want these supplies. As do we," says Telesto. "In the absence of an agreement we can come to, I suggest we fight you for it. Three against three. As the challengers, you'll get to pick your dancing partners."

Ceres switches to a private channel. "We can fucking take all of them!"

"Likely true, but why bother risking it?"

"Because. I mean, what? Why risk...Seriously?" the microphone screeches.

Io similarly switches. "I mean, we have nothing to lose from agreeing and taking on three of them at first, and taking on the other two afterwards."

"Okay, I amend my statement. _I_ can take all of them."

"If you want we can fight three, and then once we've got the supplies back you can go and fight the other two while we stand back and watch."

Io switches back to address the Saturnalia. "You know, I met Saturn, once," she bluffs, several crystalline blades orbiting the _Loki's_ hand. "Do you honestly think she'd appreciate this? A band of thugs, going around robbing people, being nothing more than...petty thieves? She was much more than that."

Ceres snorts on the private line, causing the mic to crackle again.

"We're not robbing people. We're robbing _you_."

"I take it you're not big fans of any of us. I mean, come on; not even running off to be an alien like your idol?"

"Guys just tell me when and I can totally disable all their sensors," Ceres says, still barely able to contain her laughter at the absolute bullshit Io is peddling.

"Can you stop giggling, Ceres? I'm gaining valuable intelligence on the enemy," She mutters over the private line, voice hushed, as if they could overhear.

"Right, your BS psychic stunt, I got you," Ceres winks.

"Trying to size us up, Corporal Io?" asks Pandora. "Good try. Obvious move. And we do have our flaws. But I'll tell you this; you can't get anywhere like that."

The red one has its claws bared. The black one has been fluttering from a stationary point, not moving; not unlike a hover, which is unusual. The orange one has formed its electrotoxins into a long blade, blazing bright pink. Over the right fist of the blue one is an even bluer dome, hard to look at, and it glows; you think it might not be very real. The green one has set down electrotoxin roots into a nearby asteroid.

"Okay do you two fucknuggets really think they're gonna just ~duel us~ for fucking military equipment. Like, seriously. How naive are you."

"How about you, solar boy. You think this checks out?" she addresses Prominence.

**_"They just deleted the defeat codes for the cargo bays,"_** says Prominence. **_"They'd have to take the whole bay by cutting it off the ship-self, and it would slow them down. I'd say they're as good as their words."_**

"What are they going to do? Attack us while we're distracted? Then it's just a five-on-three anyway. Run away with the goods? We'd notice and it'd then become a five-on-three again."

"...I still think we can take them!" Ceres is nothing if not stubborn. "Solar boy agrees with me, right? Look at my totally-classified sexy ship specs. We can totally win."

**_"The dice fall where they may,"_** says Prominence. **_"Good luck."_**

Io sighs, glancing over the group. She's...stalled enough. "Alright, fine, play it your way," She says to the Saturnalia. "Red, orange, and blue. That's who we'll fight."

"Metis pl0x tell me you're gonna do your freaky mimic thing to the weird-looking green one with the obviously totally broken specs."

"Oh my god, did you just say, like, pl-zero-x? Like, out loud?"

"trollface.jpg"

_Amalthea Gossamer_ begins to twist its shape. Silver sheen tinting green, helmet-like visage growing two cat-like ears, fingers narrowing into points, and a long tail extending from the base of its spine.

"Hell."  
"Fucking."  
"Yes."

"Ceres, I just want you to know, nothing you have ever done even comes close to the hatred you using stupid memes makes me feel. I don't think I will ever forgive you for this."

Pandora whistles. "That's a neat trick. We'll see if it'll win you the day."

"So which one of you lovely ladies wants to dance with me?" Telesto asks, the optical light of her _String of Pearls_ shutting off and on in a wink, tail flicking as her hips jut to the side.

"I'm gay."

Io, within her ship-self, blushes a deep red. That...definitely caught her off guard. No one's talked to her like that in...ages. Not since... _Her_. The thought brings reality crashing down on Io's shoulders, and the _Loki_ tenses, raising one of its hands and grasping at one of the floating, crystalline blades, sparkling all the colors of the rainbow.

"Sure. Let's dance."

Polydeuces raises a hand. "Ready? And!"

Her hand drops. " _Swiiing_ your _partner_ round _and_ round~"

Io doesn't even particularly wait until Polydeuces drops her hand, the _Loki's_ own hand zipping across the void on the tides of gravity, the crystalline blade in her hand, and the several orbiting said hand, flying through space towards Telesto's chest.

Telesto is caught by surprise, and is knocked back by the force of the throw. "That's dirty pool," she says.

"It's not my fault that you're slow," Io taunts.

"This is gay," Ceres says on the private line to Metis, as if sharing a terrible secret.

Claws out, Telesto suddenly shoves them into where her ship-self's mouth would be, hard metal piercing soft plastic, dripping bubblegum soda into weightless space. Her eyes catches yours as they flash and you feel gravity and the narrative distort. You shake off the poisonous psychic attack as your vision returns from pink-tinged clouds.

Light flashes deep within the _Loki's_ body, and washes outward like a wave, and Io grounds herself. "Oh, please," she says lowly, over the radio, "I survived the Lunar Gravity Well trying to turn me inside out; did you think you'd get me with _that_? Here, let me show you what I can do..."

The _Loki_ flashes a new color- Pink light flowing from the core down to her hands- And from its fists come blades of hard light, gravity pushed down to an edge- and when you look at the _Loki_ from just the right angle gravity distorts to the point where maybe it looks a little bit like the _String of Pearls_ itself- And the _Loki_ dashes forth suddenly, getting up in Telesto's personal space and slashes her across the chest. It doesn't do any real damage- But Telesto is infected with an idea. Electrotoxin that exists at the edges of the real and imagined zips its way through Telesto's ship-self, seeping into the plastic and internals, degrading all its parts, making the ship feel so...weak and sluggish. It won't come out, now. Trying to get rid of it is like trying not to think of pink elephants. 

"Have a taste of your own medicine!"

"This is so gay _Samhain Catenae_ play _Girls _by Beatrice Eli."__

"Fight fire with fire," says Telesto softly, to no one in particular, pressing clawed hands together, head bowed. " _以毒攻毒_ ," she says, pink bubbles blowing out from the cracks in the String of Pearl's plastic body, like a gaggle of children competing on a summer's day.

Io darts around Telesto, a couple of crystalline blades in her hands, and she stabs into the building bubbles, dragging her blades across them, avoiding the spewing fluids- And Io flexes her gravity, and the conceptual electrotoxin within Telesto's ship-self jolts to life, zipping up and down her body like bolts of lightning, stalling the creation of the building fluids.

Io doesn't really stop there. She presses the advantage, knives orbiting her body like a dozen glittering satellites, and Io presses in to dig her blades in deep. Even as Telesto tries to move out of the way, Io is on her, just using the momentum to swing herself around the _String of Pearls'_ body, clinging onto Telesto's back and dragging the knives down it with a spray of fluid.

"You're never going to win like this," Io taunts, her own body trembling inside her cockpit as she tries to keep the _Loki_ steady. "You're _sloppy._ You're not going to beat me at this game. Haven't you been paying attention, girl? You've taken several hits so far, while I'm untouched. Can't you just see that I'm _better than you?_ "

Ceres snorts indignantly on the private line, but doesn't do anything that would interrupt Io's focus.

"Maybe..." begins Telesto, "...I _want_ to lose..." she murmurs, tail flickering.

Suddenly, the _String of Pearls_ makes a complete one-eighty turn, fingers pushed into her jaw, claws pushing the jaw down, a shout, a _roar_ of absolute abandon, limbs stretched forward in a lunge, pushing down, pushing _closer_. The _String of Pearls_ is badly battered and burned. You can hear Telesto's heavy breathing on the comms.

Metis affects Callisto's voice as best she can, and says; "Calm down, I know you’re better than this. You can hear her can't you? You've got her beaten and she's trying to throw you off your game. It's all just a bogeyman act."

Sensing a shift in the tides between the two combatants, Ceres decides to move to a long range distance at which she could not be observed, even without her stealth, without top-of-the-line sensory equipment.

The _Loki_ doesn't move. But Io presses against her seat, a strangled whimper escaping her throat as Telesto flings herself at her. She's paralyzed for a few moments- But she distantly hears her departed girlfriend, Callisto, talking to her. Io grips onto reality as tightly as she can, and the _Loki_ lashes out at the incoming Telesto. The _Loki's_ fist punches across the gaping maw of the _String of Pearls_ , and Io follows that up by flinging herself around Telesto and throwing a dozen of her knives into Telesto's back. And then Io just kind of...keeps going. She grabs onto the _String of Pearls'_ tail, and slams the entire mech into a nearby asteroid, before just...pummeling it over and over with the _Loki's_ fists.

Io is kind of completely freaking the fuck out. Her mic had cut at some point, but inside her cockpit Io is screaming.

It takes three of the Saturnalia to pull Io off. Titan picks up her battered leader and tries to assess the harm. Polydeuces starts to speak, but hesitates, shrugs, clearly shaken.

Having moved into a long range position just before Io went into berserker mode, Ceres just now spots the carnage with her long range sensors.

"Well. Fuck."

Io thrashes and jerks away at being manhandled by the Saturnalia. The _Loki_ drifts away from the group, back towards Io's teammates. The _Loki_ only goes completely still once it's away from the perceived enemy.

"Io. Io. Io. Can you hear me? Fuck." Ceres watches the Saturnalia carefully.

Metis flies over and takes _Loki Patera_ by its hand, and gently leads her away.

"I-I need a minute." Io's voice finally drifts across the radio. She sounds unlike her usual self. She sounds broken and afraid.

"Well. Shit. Okay, yeah. Take a breather in the...fucking...nebula...I guess," Ceres turns off her comms and swears to herself, having had a rare moment of genuine empathy for another person.

"Alright then, my turn," Metis announces, trying to keep her focus off Io and on the next fight.

"How about..." begins Pandora, drifting closer. "A two-on-two? Little change in the fight card."

"I'm down if Ceres is," says Metis.

"Ceres is so down for this," she says, forgetting to change to public comms.

Polydeuces is upset and distracted. "Go on, then," she says.

"Surtur and Pandora, you're up."

Ceres finally realises she needs to actually switch to public comms to talk to them.

"LMAO, you sure you guys are still up for this after what Io did to red lady?"

Surtur scoffs. "To the contrary. We _have_ to do this, now." Nevertheless, you hear the hesitation in her voice. She is clearly shaken.

If the other two could spot _Samhain Catenae_ now, they'd see her alien beak form something close to a smile. Ceres switches back to private comms. "I've got this in the bag. Io...turn off all your sensors, okay?"

The _Loki_ floats quietly in the void, totally still, almost as if it was shut off. But after a moment, the others could register the sensors turning off one by one, before finally the radio shuts off. Io retreats into herself, and leaves herself utterly alone.

Metis switches over to private comms; "I'm concerned about what blue can do; a sword is a sword and we can deal with that, but I'd rather avoid finding out firsthand what that weird energy dome is. What do you think?"

"Sounds like a plan. Bluey is MINE. You know what I can do." The anticipation is palpable in Ceres' voice as it is carried across the communicator.

"How well would you say you remember the story of Prometheus?"

"Like, not at all. I was a bad student??"

"Well most of the details don't really matter. The important bit is that this guy got chained to a mountain and then got his innards ripped out by birds every day for the rest of time."

"That's pretty metal,” says Ceres. “So let me guess, you want me to like, vore these guys or something?"

“..."

"Okay, that was terrible."

"You'll see what I'm going for."

"Take it away, babe."

Metis focuses her borrowed gravity, with one metaphorical hand grabbing onto Pandora, with the other, grabbing onto the largest asteroid within reach. Then sends them careening towards each other as hard as she can. Pandora splatters against the asteroid like she's made of bubblegum, which she basically is. That wouldn't really be a problem most of the time for a ship based on _String of Pearls_ , except that the pressure isn't letting up, and she's not able to properly return to her normal form.

Surtur raises her great sword, meters upon meters of blinding pink fire, and brings it down against Metis' gravity grip. But her electrotoxin flame is not powerful enough to break Metis' grip on Pandora.

But it does loosen it, ever so slightly.

"Once upon a time..." says Pandora through gritted teeth. You feel the narrative of not only gravity shift, but also space and time. Her bright blue boxing glove flashes, and when your optics and eyes adjust, there stands two blue _String of Pearls_ , one more spectral and ghostly than the other.

"Thanks," says the less-blue _String of Pearls_. The ghost shrugs.

"No problem," says the brighter Pandora.

"Well, fuck."

Metis finds her titanic gravity grip stuck on the quantum ghost.

Switching back to the public channel: "Now why did you have to go and ruin all my hard work."

"I'm Pandora," says the native, shrugging.

"I spoil things," says the quantum ghost, trying to shrug but failing against the grip.

Metis strains and reaches out with her gravity again, loosening her grip slightly on the asteroid so she can grab hold of the original Pandora and sling her back toward it, but this time she has no intention of making her stick, and she's holding the asteroid at just the right angle to make the two Pandoras make out at high velocity.

Upon impact, the quantum ghost disappears into nothingness, her light making your surroundings just a little darker. The solid Pandora remaining clutches her chest, as wires and antennae spool out, live and sparking.

"If this is the first time you've made out with yourself, I'd frankly be surprised."

"All the other times weren't this traumatic," says the solitary Pandora, hurt, but amused.

Ceres has been suspiciously quiet.

There's a shift in the distance. Something you would only notice if you were looking for it in the right place. The sleek black plating down the back of _Samhain Catenae_ splits like an insect molting, and as the chrysalis opens, something dark and utterly horrifying spills out: The not-quite-gravity of the inverse, heading towards the three below at a speed that defies all rational thought.

This avian/alien terror opens its bloodstained beak wide open, and releases a sound that should not be carried across vacuum. This sound fills the soul itself. It fills the core of the ship-self, and it fills the sensory organs of both flesh and plastic. A feeling like metal across slate. A sound like swallowing pins.

And _Samhain Catenae_ drops out of the void as a carrion bird unto her bright blue prey.

The mere sight of _Samhain Catenae_ unleashed is enough for Pandora's _String of Pearls'_ head to short-circuit and her legs to give out. She's not down yet, but she's close.

Surtur lunges forward, silent but furious. Her sword blazes pink.

"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me."

"No you fucking _don't,_ " Ceres exclaims, and all three of her triangular obsidian eyes face the orange _String of Pearls_ as _Samhain Catenae's_ great, cowled head swivels 100 degrees. Surtur suddenly finds her sword frozen in spacetime, a fixed point, as the rest of her body collides with an invisible wall of tidal forces not of this world. "Back where you came from." And Surtur is catapulted backwards through space at breakneck speed.

With that, Pandora finds herself once more pinned beneath the threefold gaze of the Queen of Nightmares. "Where were we...Oh, that's right," Ceres mocks her prey through a steadily rising cackle. "Time to destroy you." _Samhain Catenae_ opens her vast jaws again, flashing teeth that didn't seem to be there a second ago, and releases a deep, moaning wail right into the heart of Pandora's gravity well.

"Oooh...hurt...me more..." says Pandora, even as she is flung backward and pinned down by the force. It's a pose, clearly, but also something more.

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." Ceres prepares for the next assault, all six of her nightmarish wings beating in unison with unearthly power.

Metis floats towards the crippled form of Pandora's ship-self, close enough that she could almost grab onto her even without using gravity. As a matter of fact, she does, placing a hand over the center of the knock-off _String of Pearls'_ chest, letting the long strands of hard-light she used in place of electrotoxin tendrils wrap around it. She begins to squeeze, both physically and metaphorically.

Pandora claws away the tendrils, but her chassis gives a little. "I don't do _shibari_ on first date, hon."

"Ahah holy shit."

"Alas..."

Pandora dashes to Surtur. "Here," she says. "Show them what you can do." The dome surrounding her right hand unfurls, wrapping around Surtur's electrotoxin sword. The blade glows ever-longer, radiating pure white. Pandora touches what would be the blue _String of Pearls_ ’ mouth to what would be the orange _String of Pearls’_ cheek, tenderly.

But they were violently split apart again when a single bolt of hard-light gave Pandora a brand-new lip piercing.

"Nice shot."

Surtur shrugs, and lunges towards Ceres. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"There is no way I'm letting Io fucking outdo me here," Ceres screeches as she seemingly effortlessly swats back Surtur's blade with the back of her wrist. It's much more difficult than it looks, but the apparent ease with which Ceres is dodging everything has to be pissing Surtur off by now.

"Fuck this bullshit, this should've been over the moment I arrived." Ceres releases yet another oozing wall of existentially-terrifying not-quite-gravity at Pandora as _Samhain Catenae_ screeches indignantly.

Pandora drops dead. Not dead-dead, but she fucking. Falls. Like a stone.

"What a fucking pain that was."

"Well, that's that, then," calls out Telesto, coming back into view. While badly damaged, her red _String of Pearls_ can still fly. Her face pops out on your viewscreen.

_Samhain Catenae_ makes an elaborate flourish with her spear. It's obviously meant to impress.

Across the edges of Telesto's mouth are two small scars, angled upwards. Her gray-blue hair is in a mess. "As per our agreement, the cargo is yours. The pilots also, although we had no designs on those."

Behind Metis and Ceres, _Loki Patera_ flares to life suddenly, energy flowing back into its body and life coming back to its eyes. The _Loki_ stretches, as if waking up after a nap, and Io rights herself, silently floating closer to her temporary companions.

Ceres smirks, and _Samhain Catenae_ smiles smugly with her, facing _Loki Patera_ as she awakens.

The sight of the flourish awakens something in Telesto and her crew. "Y-you've beat us but good, but we'll be back, gods all around us willing. We'll see who wins the next one."

"Corporal Io," says Telesto, turning to face _Loki Patera._

"Telesto," Io says over the public frequencies, although she doesn't show her view screen. "We'll be completing our mission now, if you don't terribly mind."

"Go right ahead," she says. "Just wanted to thank you," Telesto says with a wink. "All my girlfriends love my scars."

"Hold up a second, you lot." Ceres turns back to the Saturnalia.

"One thing I'm interested in, is if you adore Saturn so much, why haven't you joined up with the Artemisian cause, to join her in the inverse? I sure as hell know I don't look like it, but I _am_ an anointed Priestess of our incredibly confusing organisation, and we could use all the gravity we can to work out how to replicate the eversion process for all the people who want it. We'd welcome you with open arms, if you wanted."

"And join you in chains?" asks Polydeuces. "No thanks. Yo-ho yo-ho a pirate's life for me and all that."

 ** **[unknown: besides]**** **comes over your private messaging channel.**  
****[unknown: how do you think we got the defeat codes]****

Ceres replies: ****[BAN: good luck out there]****

**** ****[BAN: sry about the setback]****

"Well, can't say I didn't try."

The _Loki_ is obviously tense. "Can we not," Io says over the radio. "Can we please, just, not? I want to move on with my life now, thank you, I don't need to hear your bloody recruitment drive."

"You're just jealous of my 1337 skills BC ur a skrub, Little Flame."

"I'm not in the fucking mood, Ceres," Io snaps suddenly.

_Amalthea Gossamer_ jabs a finger into a point between two of _Samhain Catenae's_ wings. "Stop antagonizing her, please."

_Samhain Catenae_ screeches softly for a moment before realizing the adverse effects that would inevitably have on like, everyone around her.

"No stop it I DO WHAT I WANT"

Io is already moving on, going over to collect the cargo and the disabled ship-selves so they can complete their mission.

Ceres sulks as Io escapes her grasp once again.

As the two teams of ship-selves begin to move in separate directions, Metis sends a message to Titan, containing only a single word:

****[CopyKitten: Wink]****

Titan winks back, a single pulse on her _String of Pearls'_ left optic light.

* * *

_**Spoils of War** _

  * A chunk of Telesto’s String of Pearls
  * 3D-Printed Replica of Anne Dieu-le-Veut’s Tricorn Hat
  * Herge’s Anemoi Flotilla-Issue Cap



**Current Speed to Heaven:** _Half-a-mile a day_

 


	2. Downtimes 1-4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short roleplay sessions between actual game sessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters portrayed by the Gamemaster/[Garuda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garuda/) (GM) are in plaintext black.  
> Characters controlled by [OmniscientTrees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniscientTrees) \- including, but not limited to, **Ceres** \- will be in red.  
> The characters that are played by [Iceyprincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iceyprincess), primarily **Io** , shall be in this shade of green.  
> [Eljhared's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eljhared) characters, such as **Metis** , use this blue color.
> 
> Please try not to read this fic/logs on your mobile phone. Apparently the colors don't quite work.

#### Downtime 1:  _Drink And The Devil Had Done For The Rest_

You make it back to the _Atlas_. Vanth congratulates you on a job well done, for the recovered cargo and new intelligence. The _Atlas_ will be on the lookout for the Saturnalia and other pirates from now on. You have received one souvenir. What is it?

Io settles down carefully into a chair, just nearby the hanger where the _Loki Patera_ is stored. She looks down at the oddly shaped chunk of red and pink plastic that was pulled from the gauntlets of the _Loki_. A...Reminder of what she did, she supposes. She isn't sure if she wants to keep it, yet.

Hergé gifts you a 3D-printed replica of Anne Dieu-le-Veut's tricorn hat, in thankfulness. He also passes you his own Anemoi cap, assuring you they have a whole box of surplus headgear somewhere.

There is a place where the three of you meet; where is it? Where in this place do you store your shared possessions?

Ceres takes the pirate hat greedily before anyone else can swipe it, but agrees to hang it up at the Cloud Nine bar on their shared trophy shelf...for now.

Io ends up at the bar after taking a nice shower. The Ares uniforms always look a little weird on most pilots, but Io was a nerd, and actually got one specifically fitted for her; the uniform cuts a pretty slim figure. She runs a hand through her short, boyish hair as she settles in at the counter and orders a drink, turning around on the stool to lean her back against the counter and relax, trying desperately to look cool while also trying not to look desperate.

_'How is she so hot,'_ Ceres looks away pointedly, sipping from her soft drink.

Io glances across the bar to Ceres, giving a small frown before looking away herself, taking an unhealthily-deep swig of her drink. She ordered some cocktail that almost certainly contains vodka.

"That was some pretty sick fighting you did back there," Ceres is, as ever, terrible at small talk. She just hopes Io hasn't noticed she's only having a soft drink.

Io hums a bit in acknowledgement. "I wasn't playing around, and I wasn't in the mood for whatever her gimmick was. You went all out, too, didn't you? I could feel your Gravity, even while deaf and blind in my cockpit."

"Yep, I totally fucking owned their asses. As is usual. It's a shame you missed the show," Ceres attempts a coin trick across her knuckles much like what she did with her poenlance in _Samhain Catenae_ , but fails horribly and drops the coin on the floor. The Gestalt Reactor obviously helps things.

Io looks over as the coin drops, and snickers a little at the display. "It gets hard to watch when you open up your wings, anyway. Seriously, with that ship you're pretty much cheating."

Ceres blushes, and picks up the coin sheepishly, wiggling her shoulders a little as she settles back onto her stool; a motion which would be familiar to Io after having watched Ceres in combat a number of times, as it's the gesture she uses when flexing her wings in a defense display. "I know. I did tell you to look away, remember."

Io gives an oddly warm smile, before it turns sad. "Yeah. Thanks for that. Don't think I wanted to see much more, anyway."

"...I just don't understand how a pilot who used to fly with Cradle's Graces can work with those Ares thugs," Ceres almost mutters it, but it is clearly discernible as she turns back to her drink.

Io frowns properly, looking away, and into her drink. "Yeah. Well, there's a lot you don't understand."

"Tryyy me," Ceres looks right at the back of Io's head.

"God, Where should I start?" Io downs her drink suddenly, with a little shudder, and puts it down on the counter somewhat forcibly. She swings around from her relaxed position to look towards Ceres. "It's not some...simple, black and white issue here, alright? Things were different back then. A lot different. You weren't around. You didn't see what space was like, before all this. I don't know if you _can_ understand."

"I know your fearless princess did. And she's up there, now, making space a better place for all of us Earth abandoned." Ceres holds Io's gaze for as long as possible, an impassive look on her face.

Io just looks...exasperated. "How the fuck is this better?" Io mutters, shaking her head and looking away again, leaning on her arms on the counter.

"Do you think she fucked up, then? Made a mistake? Was tricked by Celestial Mechanics? I wouldn't've pegged you as someone who didn't trust her 'superiors'."

"I think she fucking betrayed us," Io says, voice filled with bitterness, and she grips her empty glass hard, hand shaking a little. "I don't know why she did it. I'll never _begin_ to know why. She said she wanted a home for humans in space, but now it's only home for _them_. And I'll never forgive her for that."

Ceres grins smugly. "Maybe you would've been better off sticking with Memorial Foundation."

"Fuck off."

Ceres laughs, and finishes her drink before answering. "Both you and I know that neither of us are wanted here. And neither of our interests align with Earth's. Sooner or later, you'll all see which option is the rational one: the Inverse. I guess I'll be 'fucking off', then. Seeya around, Little Flame," Ceres blows a kiss, and makes a surprisingly quick exit from the bar before Io can so much as respond. It's like she was never there in the first place.

Io hides her face in her hands. She feels humiliated and awful. She doesn't know why she let Ceres get to her like that. It was so stupid. She just kind of sits there like that, for a while.

As you bed down for the 'night' (really set curfew timings for different shifts), you hear what can be described as "whalesong 70's hits radio." The Asura are calling again.

* * *

#### Downtime 2:  _A River In Egypt_

Io takes slow, deep breaths, hands gripping the interface for the _Loki Patera_. They float together, within the _Loki’s_ docking port. Io listens to the gentle hum of her tidal reactor and focuses on feeling the electricity flowing through the device attached to her spine. A form of meditation, as it were. 

“Tidal forces regular. Structural integrity maintained. Generator pulling about 0.7 G’s. Pilot-Ship connection steady,” Io drones out slowly over the radio, readouts, and updates, all the little tests to make sure they were both operating to Ares standard. 

“You doing okay, Io?” Thebe’s voice filters into her perception through the radio. “You’re usually just thrilled about the test sequences! If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were bored,” Thebe is a fellow Ares pilot, one of her few friends.

“Fuck off,” Is Io’s curt reply. 

“Aw, shit, it’s Ceres again, isn’t it?”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“It’s _always_ Ceres. You can’t go a week without having some new altercation with her. What happened this time?”

Io sighs, rubbing her head. “Ugh. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oooh, juicy! Now I’ve _got_ to know.”

Io groans over the connection, hiding her face in her hands. “Uuuugh...it’s her...everything. She's so hopelessly infuriating. Command put us together for a joint mission for some godforsaken reason, and it was just hell. She wouldn’t stop making stupid jokes, and she gave a recruitment pitch to every bloody person we came across!”

“Oh my god.”

“It wouldn’t even be such a big issue if she didn’t keep forcing herself into whatever I’m doing! Thank God Metis can somehow get a leash on her, I don’t know how she does it. I swear Ceres should be a bad influence on her, but Metis doesn’t take any bullshit.”

“Oh my _god_.”

“And everything she does is just so...infuriating! Her whole cock-sure attitude and the way she talks, and that’s not even mentioning how she _looks_ , with her s-stupid haircut and the way her eyes just seem to stare into your soul and she does this little thing with her shoulders that’s just so...so...”

“Cute?”

“Ye- No! What?!”

“Oh my god Io, you are the biggest disaster lesbian in this station.”

Io lets out a loud groan, banging her head against the cockpit wall. “Oh my god! Shut up! Fuck you!”

Thebe just laughs.

* * *

#### Downtime 3:  _Breakfast Of Champions_

Metis shambles her way into the commissary, still not 100% awake, clutching her coffee mug. She’s lucky that she realized she needed her glasses today, otherwise she probably would have burned herself trying to get her morning dose of sweet, sweet caffeine. The psychic headache from yesterday is gone, but the way she clutches the old mug, stamped with the Celestial Mechanics logo, it doesn't look like it.

Io is there, too, shuffling her way through the line to pick out what she needs to eat. From the looks of it, she's on her third cup of coffee today. Ares pilots wake up extra early, and Io stays up later than she should. She pushes out from the counter once she has her food to find herself a place to sit, and notices Metis as she moves, giving the girl a small smile and a wave as she sits down.

"Good morning from..." she checks the clock on the wall, "Reykjavik today."

Io hums, sipping her coffee. "You figure they'd keep that a consistent time schedule, but no. You doing alright, Metis?"

"Well enough. Tidal strain is a bitch but a good night's sleep is usually enough. Yourself?"

"Stressed and exhausted, honestly. Debriefing for an hour was a really fun experience. I'm just lucky I didn't push myself too hard."

Metis looks skeptical but doesn't push the issue, opting to grab a bagel instead. "So did they tell you anything about our evaluation? I got shipped right off to the med bay before debriefing due to my 'medical issue'."

"Mm, Not really. They seemed pretty happy we got the job done, and really not happy about a bunch of pirates running around. They don't tend to tell me much, though."

"Fair enough. Apollo's only barely any better, I mostly find stuff out by reading other people's mail."

"Yeah. The higher-ups in Ares tend to be a bunch of dicks. You didn't hear me say that," She snickers, quietly. "They're super strict about 'operational security' this and 'follow the protocol' that."

"Speaking of operational security," Metis says as she grabs her second cup of coffee and her slouch worsens slightly. "Wasn't it really odd that those pirates were using the mass-production _String of Pearls_? Let alone using them that way."

Io frowns as she thinks, eating quietly for a few moments. "That _is_ strange. Where did they even get those? It was obvious that they were trying to mimic the original Saturn, but..."

"But that's not the only thing. Lots of stuff went missing during those days, and in the chaos following the Eversion, a few rogue pilots could easily have stolen a few ship-selves,” says Metis.

“What I'm more curious about is what they were able to do with them. You see, back when they were first built, the mass-production models barely counted as ship-selves. I should know, I was technically part of the team that built them. The mass-production models were designed to run almost autonomously, and since we technically weren't allowed to build any new tidal reactors, they essentially all had to share one. Trying to put a human pilot in one of them probably would have destroyed it, so they were never fitted with a way to externalize their gravity, let alone pull the tricks they were doing."

Io hums. "That, I didn't know. That is _weird_. They could be new ship-selves designed to look like the _String of Pearls_ , but why would they bother? And the things they did..." Io trails off and looks a bit distant. "That thing Telesto did with the ship's...head. That was basically...I was there, you know? When everyone everted. Oh, everyone knows that, it's practically my defining bloody feature..." Io seems to be rapidly losing confidence as she runs a hand through her hair, breathing slowly. 

"I saw Saturn, and I saw the gravity well, I was basically _right there_ when everything went wrong, and...God, I saw the _String of Pearls_ , the original one, open up its jaw and scream. It didn't _have_ a jaw, originally. And that thing Telesto did was basically the spitting image of what Saturn did. It scared the crap out of me."

"I'm pretty sure I actually knew Telesto, way back when. She didn't go by that name then but I recognized her face. She was with Celestial Mechanics at the time, one of the third generation pilots that found different jobs so they could stay in space."

Io frowns. “That figures. There seems to be more of us than I thought. Third-gen pilots, I mean. You knew her?”

"That's probably overstating it a little. I 'knew' pretty much everyone at CM, but I doubt I ever spoke with her for more than a minute or two. She worked in HR I think, I brought her coffee once. I'm pretty sure I saw Saturn flirting with her once but that doesn't really make her special."

“Well, I wasn’t special, either. We’re all kind of special, now. We’re the only ones left.” Io says sadly, looking down at her coffee. “I regret what I did to her. I just...lost control. It brought up bad memories.”

"Well. It's been good talking with you, but I've got to be getting back to Apollo command, so they can tell me the exact same things they told you."

"Sure. It was nice talking to you, Metis. I'll see you later."

* * *

#### Downtime 4:  _Rumble In The Jungle_

Not even the massive tidal reactor of the _Atlas_ is able to hold 9.807 (m/sec^2) 24/7. So in order to stave off muscle degeneration, everyone aboard the station is required to do at least three hours of exercise or physical training each week.

Agon Gymnasium is the best gym in space. It's also the only gym in space. Those two things are closely connected. The equipment isn't exactly state of the art, and it's seen a lot of wear and tear from frequent use, but it still holds together.

Io stands inside the gym, doing a few stretches in her work-out gear, which consists mostly of just sweatpants and a tank top. She just sort of quietly ignores the other Ares soldiers who are much more enthusiastic about their exercise, and focuses on doing what she needs to.

Metis is in the middle of a relaxed jog on one of the beat-up old treadmills when she notices that Io is also present. It isn't the first time this has happened, but that doesn't stop her from appreciating Io's significantly more developed physique.

Io finishes up her stretches and moves to start lifting some weights. She doesn't actually seem to be enjoying it in the slightest; she looks kind of miserable here, actually. The moment she spots Metis, she's quick to take the excuse to pause her routine and wander over towards her with a smile and a wave. "Ah, Hey! How's it going?"

"Doing well, and yourself?" Metis replies, having taken off her glasses and tied her hair back since this morning.

Io smiles and sighs. "Decent, I guess. I'm kinda getting...antsy, though. Nervous. Just seems weirdly quiet."

"How long have you been here? I still need to finish up my last half-hour for the week before I can hit the showers."

"Longer than the bare minimum. Honestly, I can afford to slack a bit for one day. Although I'd be happy to keep you company until you're done? Maybe we can spar or something."

"Sounds fun. Being used as an impromptu mop will certainly make the time pass quicker."

Io snorts. "Aw, come on, I'll go easy on you, honest! I can show you a few moves; they tend to translate over to ship-self combat, anyway."

"Sure, it's always good to get some practice in. But I mean, it's not like I was turning you down before."

Io smiles, seeming a little relieved. She gestures over to some mats surrounded by large elastic bands of some sort. It looks kinda like an attempt to jury-rig a boxing ring. "Well, alright, Let's see what you got!"

Metis hops into the ring and shifts into a fighting stance. Her form isn't terrible, she knows how to make a fist, her feet are apart, and she presents a very narrow profile as she faces Io, using what few advantages her somewhat-mousy frame gives her.

Io gives an approving look and ducks into her own stance; it seems more...rigid, likely because the proper technique has been drilled into her over and over for the past few years. "Looking good. I'll let you have the first move! Go ahead and try to hit me?"

Metis closes the distance and goes for a low jab, but her movements are too slow, too indecisive, and Io dodges easily. But, to her credit, she recovers quickly, hopping back into her resting stance before it was too late to avoid a counter attack.

Io nods, and gives a bit of a wicked grin. "I'm going to go a little quickly here; try to keep up, okay?" Io shuffles about a bit, preparing for her movements, and then pushes in with several quick jabs, poking at the weak-points in Metis' defense. She is pulling her punches, the jabs being more 'taps' instead of actual punches, however.

Over the broadcast system, command calls the three of you to Office Compartment Q immediately. Your training session is cut short.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __  
>  **Spoils of War**   
> 
> 
>   * A chunk of Telesto’s _String of Pearls_
>   * 3D-Printed Replica of Anne Dieu-le-Veut’s Tricorn Hat
>   * Herge’s Anemoi Flotilla-Issue Cap
>   * x3 Unpaid Bar Tabs
> 

> 
> _Everyone asks, "Paradise Lost?" or "Paradise Found?" but never "Paradise How?"_


	3. Sessions 2 & 3 - A Wedding In New Vegas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the other side of Sol, a world nearly identical to Earth has been discovered. The team are sent to investigate, but things don't go entirely according to plan...
> 
>  _This week on_ Reach Heaven By Violence _: "It's just like [insert applicable pop culture reference here]!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters portrayed by the Gamemaster/[Garuda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garuda/) (GM) are in plaintext black.  
> Characters controlled by [OmniscientTrees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniscientTrees) \- including, but not limited to, **Ceres** \- will be in red.  
> The characters that are played by [Iceyprincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iceyprincess), primarily **Io** , shall be in this shade of green.  
> [Eljhared's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eljhared) characters, such as **Metis** , use this blue color.
> 
> Please try not to read this fic/logs on your mobile phone. Apparently the colors don't quite work.

You have been summoned to Office Compartment Q. How do you get there? How do you feel?

Ceres groans as she turns over in her sheets. Unlike most of the fourth generation pilots, she never got used to the strange hours the ZI forced on them, and was half asleep when called to "morning" briefings more often than not. Nonetheless, she drags herself to the office compartment in what hopefully passes for daytime wear rather than re-purposed pajamas.

Your officer this time is Heracles, ostensibly of ZI proper, but his elaborate scrollwork glasses and flowing clothing say otherwise.

"The Wheel of Rebirth," Heracles says, not getting up from his chair that is straining at his large muscle mass. "Six realms of existence, each becoming the other, again and again. Everything is human, because we are everything. We become it all. At the top, your nebula-girls and starry-women, the Deva. Below them, big giant metal monsters, the Asura. The animals, creatures of instinct and motion. And then there's us."

"If you’re done waxing poetic, sir, can you tell us why we've been called here?"

Heracles tosses a stack of photos on the table. They seem to be pictures of Earth from space, but there's some strange differences.

Io was rather disappointed to be pulled away from her sparring with Metis, but showed up promptly either way. However, she distinctly looks very unhappy. She tries her best to hide her scowl as her commanding officer rattles on about meaningless melodrama.

Ceres blinks with her one lonely eye. It looks like she only just realized who she's in the office compartment with, and suppresses a second groan. The three present would probably note that Ceres had forgotten to wear her eye-patch today in her rush to get to the briefing.

"We got a ping five minutes ago. A planet on the other side of Sol. It looks almost exactly like Luna-Terra. But it isn't. Because firstly, it's right behind and below us, and second, it's got no Luna."

"Holy shit," Ceres blurts out without thinking.

"We're sending five flotillas to Designation: Counter-Earth. Yours is one of them. You will make landfall here;" Heracles says, pointing at the brightest spot on the landmass that resembles the North American continent. “Prominence in the scavenger-scout model _Jatayu-Falls-To-The-Earth_ will follow right behind you for fire support.”

"Any reason you're sending us to New Vegas over any other location?"

"Nerd," Ceres mutters under her breath.

Heracles shrugs. "Would you believe we drew your names out of a hat?"

"Unfortunately..." she sighs quietly.

"Five flotillas set sail at 1200 hours. Yours should be one of them," Heracles says, pointing to the pictures again. "There are six spokes on the Wheel. Find out if this is on the Wheel at all, and report back to us."

"...When's 1200 hours again," Ceres asks at no-one in particular.

"That's noon, Ceres." Io mutters. She looks...frankly, rather terrified at the prospect of this all.

"How far away is that."

Heracles looks at his watch.

"That means you have three hours to prepare. The crews are already doing pre-launch checks."

"Oh thank God, I can go back to sleep."

Io takes a deep breath, and nods.

"Right. We'll get it done, Sir."

Ceres groans.

"The distance is three hundred million kilometers in total, rounded up."

"I _do_ have one question sir. Before our last mission we were told that the three of us working on a team would only be a temporary measure, assuming we succeeded. Is there any reason we've been assigned together again? Was our performance unsatisfactory?"

Heracles leans back, arms up, his massive hands clasped behind his head.

"Double-edged sword of success, kid. You don't do well, you're stuck with each other. You succeed, the brass think it's great not messing with what works. You _are_ allowed to put in official transfer requests but that can wait."

"300,000,000 km, that sounds like a good distance for a race, right?" Ceres is notorious for her lack of a filter when called to early briefings (according to her own confusing schedule, that is).

"Sure, if you want to be racing for several straight days."

"Ship-selves are only capable of sublight speeds for safe interplanetary travel. Luckily for you, we've been working on certain things for _actual_ light speed. Experimental detachable boosters and a highly-resistant polymer coating. In this case, you're not metaphorically sailing to Counter-Earth, but speed-boating to it. The journey will take...about fifteen minutes."

Io is looking gradually more terrified.

Ceres looks delighted.

"And as you're going at lightspeed, you will be passing directly through Sol."

"Im. What."

"The booster accelerates you to lightspeed, while the polymer envelops you in a gravity/space field that nullifies your mass. Since there's no matter, you can't burn. And the booster will stop directly over Counter-Earth. Everything will be fine. Probably."

"Oh, so it's like _Mass Effect_."

"I- Wait, how exactly can we, you know, exist? Without mass?"

"We definitely can't, this sounds amazing."

"You won't."

"What? No, wait, seriously, what? Please elaborate?"

"We believe that the gravity/space field will push you into another dimension with alternative space/time. When the field dissolves, you're pushed back, like rubber, back into ours. The trick is to calculate the _right_ time to initiate pushback."

"Oh, so it's like _Warhammer 40k_."

"I don't watch television, so maybe that's _exactly_ what it's like."

"I mean, we could also just cease to exist. That's also a possibility. We could end up turning inside-out and just ruining everything. That's possible too."

"What's a Warhammer."

Metis pulls her glasses out of her pocket and does a quick bit of mental math.

"The odds of that happening _should_ be less than four percent."

"Guys, I really just can't get over how absurdly terrible this idea sounds."

"I still don't know what a warhammer is but turning inside out sounds amazing, let's do it."

"Like I said. Experimental."

Metis looks like she's about to say something else, but decides not to, and puts her glasses away again.

"Nerd," Ceres mouths.

"If you die we will ensure a hero's funeral, fallen fictitiously fighting something ridiculously dramatic."

Ceres' single remaining pupil literally turns into a star emoji.

Metis shrugs. "I guess I can live with that. Well. You know what I mean."

"Any more questions?"

"Do...Do I have any choice?"

Heracles leans in, resting his frame upon the table, hands laced together.

"Corporal Io, technically speaking, you _have_ a choice. You can choose to disobey orders, and we will have to discharge and ground you. Or you can strap the booster on, sail into the utterly absurd, and take a chance for your future with our organization."

"Can we get a Counter-Vegas marriage if we find someone who can do it there."

"By all means, get married. Earth law has no jurisdiction at all. Gay marriage, group marriage, it's all good."

Io hides her face with her hands.

"F-Fine. Okay. Let me go get ready. Write my will out."

"Dismissed, then. You have two hours and thirty minutes to get your affairs in order."

"Should I get the old Elvis costumes out of storage just in case?"

Io stands up and shuffles out of the office compartment rather quickly, to go get her uniform on and also come to terms with her impending doom.

Ceres literally goes straight back to sleep for the next two hours.

* * *

Two hours and thirty minutes later, you are strapping yourselves into your ship-selves. Except for the tension and silence from the crews, it's almost exactly like any other launch.

"Hey Ceres," calls Metis. "We're probably not going to die today, but if we do. Thanks."

"Wait, thanks for what?"

"Honestly, I hope we just explode. I hope we all explode and die, because that's probably better than the alternative."

The boosters have been strapped in. Countdown hits zero. You go. Your senses are assaulted by light, sound, and gravity fluctuations.

And then. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's like being in a sensory deprivation tank. You want to scream but you can't feel.

The fifteen minutes seem like forever. But they end. You're all hurt. Some more than others. But you're here. Counter-Earth looms ahead of you.

The first sounds that crackle over the radio as they come out of light speed is a tortured, quiet whimper.

"Ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff"

"Everyone get here mostly intact? No lasting existential damage?"

"Ffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck-" _Samhain Catenae's_ arms hang limp and sparking at her sides.

The sound of Io's hyperventilation drifts over the active communications line.

"Still here. Still here? Still me? still here. I'm still here, God help me, I'm still here," _Loki Patera_ drifts over to the other two ship-selves and just kind of holds onto them. "You're both still here. Oh my God, you're still here."

"Uhh- that's debatable," says Ceres, staring blankly through her monitor on the vidcomm channel.

Metis turns  _Loki Patera's_ awkward embrace into a full-on group hug.

"It's alright, the worst of it is over. For now, we're just going to sit here for a few moments and recover from that—" she takes a second to find the right word; "Experience."

You drift closer, boosters discarded, and see that each light is emitted from a single thing not unlike a skyscraper. Some of the stone-like growths are gigantic, bigger than any building on Earth, or even possible in fifty years. Others are much smaller, but still quite large.

Io clings onto Metis a little too tight, but relaxes a little after a few moments to catch her breath.

"I...right, yes. Yeah. Okay. I'm okay. I'm still human. I still exist," She looks down over Counter-Earth, at the hundreds of growths. 

"God. It's like someone tried to make a city but forgot what buildings look like."

"Come on Ceres, you're with me right? Say something that proves to me you're all there or else I'm going to tell Io about that thing you told me about that one time when you got really sappy-drunk two Halloweens ago. You've got one minute, so you better hurry."

"I- Wait, what?"

"Fj8owier;lguwg9opgtjkwgoutkg89tuogjktr8iowtujgktwiogutj9koioujkiol-"

"NO." Ceres' glassy eye suddenly stares wide and clear into the camera in horror.

**_"Wow-ow,"_ **says Prominence, lost in wonder, coming out of his stupor. You forgot he came with. **_"What do you ladies think powers that? What kind of luminescence? Is there a filament?"_**

"I...Uh, Don't think it's electrical. It's probably weird alien stuff. Like, do you think any of this is going to make any sense? It probably glows because it's the metaphorical light of...civilization...or something like that. I don't know." Io mutters, not really totally in this conversation.

_'The alien landscape emits light through a strange process not indistinct from bioluminescence, yet possessed of the same radiation pattern as a nuclear fusion reactor such as you'd find in the heart of a newborn star,'_ Is what Ceres would likely remark upon if she were yet coherent enough to make verbal hypotheses.

"It's hard to say exactly what it is. It could be electrical, it could be bioluminescent, it could be nuclear, or it could be bonfires, or it could be all of them at once for all we know. Everted ship-selves aren't exactly single-purpose technology."

Metis would probably be used to Ceres going nonverbal occasionally, so when Ceres extricates her upper half from the _Catenae's_ semi-organic control pillar to start signing energetically in British Sign Language on the vidcomm, the only people who might be surprised are Io and Prominence.

_"Yeah, it's bioluminescence probably. I think it's nuclear fusion too, somehow."_

Collating data from probes and Prominence's scans, you determine that yes, it is nuclear bioluminescence; slurry produced by the "skyscraper" meets an unknown fusion material at the tip, causing a chemical reaction that emits that incredibly bright light; the material is formed into long strands, like wicks, and all reach deep into the mantle of Counter-Earth.

Io, over the vidcomms, can still be seen shaking slightly in her seat, taking slow deep breaths. She's really trying hard to just keep herself together.

"So- Uh, We should probably stop speculating. What are we supposed to...do here, again? Go down and check it out?"

_"Get a Vegas wedding,"_ Ceres shitposts since only one person here can understand her.

Below the buildings are recesses and raised rock lines that look like streets, but irregularly formed. what do you do?

Ceres glares pointedly at Metis as if to say, _‘You better fucking translate everything I say (including the shitposts).’_

"Ceres suggests that we should perform some long range reconnaissance before we do anything potentially dangerous."

":I" 

"Metis? Honey? I don't believe you. But sure, why not." Io takes a deep breath, and floats closer to the planet's surface; the horns on the _Loki's_ head start to vibrate subtly as she looks for anything strange. Or, well, stranger.

You recognize no landmarks. None of the street plans are similar to the ones given to you on earthbound Vegas. Somewhere in the distance is what looks like a hurricane, but is too solid to be such. Also, the atmosphere is barely existent.

Away from the city are great rocky plains, small columns of wind puttering through.

Below, you can see what looks perhaps like people, maybe, going about their business.

_"This is pretty fucking metal."_

By the light of the New Vegas skyscrapers, you can see a great stone monolith, vaguely resembling an angular face, if the face was also crying smaller angular faces.

"...Those aren't people. They can't be people."

Ceres makes an indignant face.

_"Tell Io she can go [REDACTED] her [REDACTED] with a [REDACTED] in space."_

**_"You know there's no censor function anywhere in ZI software, right?"_** Prominence asks, crackling over the radio.

_"...You know BSL? And you were silent all this time. Amazing."_

_**"Don't got a lot to say. Also, auto-translation software suite. I saw that all as text."** _

_"That's cheating, why can't Io use that."_

_**"I don't have anything else I can spend my pay on. I don't eat, I don't read books, I can't wear clothes, and I watch any TV I want,"**_ crackles Prominence, a tone of misery in his voice.

Io glances between the different vidcomm feeds.

"...You know, I'm pretty sure I like Ceres better this way." She mutters.

_**"...was that face's mouth open five seconds ago?"** _

_"This is so trippy wow."_

_**"Scans indicate that the mouth leads down.** _ **Deep** _**down. Maybe all the way down."** _

_"We're totally gonna_ Evangelion _Episode 10 this shit."_

"I am deeply uncomfortable. Fuck it."

Io floats even further down towards the surface, entering what would have passed for the troposphere, on Earth. She takes a moment to examine the 'people' in more detail as she passes.

They seem to be. Strange. You can't make any details out except that they're human-shaped, but other than that, no other information can be retained. Your camera feeds blur them.

You blink, and all of a sudden they choke street to street, still walking along merrily. 'Merrily' is a value judgment and has no place in scientific inquiry, but one of you includes it anyway.

You blink again, and now it's almost deserted.

They speak, and the sound carries through the thin atmosphere, but it sounds like a baby's mimicry of what adults say. The chatter rises to the volume of a sonic boom, before dying down. And nothing about them changed.

_"Ahah yeah, I'm all over this."_

  _Samhain Catenae's_ stealth bomber silhouette breaks apart into six pieces, each composed of thirty-one thousand black feathers frozen long ago in the middle of a fluid state. The not-quite-gravity disturbs the space/time about her even as she works to keep it reined in.

As _Samhain Catenae_ stretches forth her wings, you can hear something deep at the core. Maybe it's a growl. Maybe a purr. Maybe a scream. Can't tell.

As they fly over the stone skyline of New Vegas, Metis ejects a package from her ship's small cargo bay. A small box, wrapped in Kevlar, and attached to a small parachute.

"It's what she would have wanted," Metis whispers to herself, barely suppressing a chuckle.

Io drifts further forward, towards the 'face'. 

"They aren't people. They're like...puppets. caricatures. what something thinks a person is."

_"We're totally going down to the core, right."_

"Hey, can we be sure there actually are people-like things down there? That we aren't just seeing them because we vaguely think that a city should have people?"

"I mean, that _is_ why we're seeing them, though, isn't it? Like, yeah, they probably exist in some way. I see it, you see it. That's basically as good as existence, now-a-days."

Ceres experimentally plays back the sound produced by the "people" using _Samhain Catenae_ 's tidal acoustics modulator back down into the stone streets.

All you get back are echoes.

Ceres very quickly runs an analysis on the audio samples compared to Zeus Imperative's databanks containing just about every piece of human media ever.

Some sounds are similar in tenor to ambient street chatter, but you get nothing else.

_"Fucking hell,"_ Ceres signs emphatically, and relays the limited information to the other three. _"Anyone else got anything."_

_**"Uh..."**_ Prominence mumbles, shining a spotlight on one of the ‘people.’ Which has opened the package and started putting on the costume.

_**"Who brought that?"** _

"That was me. I would explain but I feel like Pallas would be disappointed in me if I did."

"You're all trying to define something that can't be defined. This is a crowd. I mean, come on, when was the last time any of you remembered a face in a crowd? You don't, do you? They all just blend together. This is that. A crowd, but without any people."

_"Crowds have Culture and gravity,"_ Ceres stares at Metis, assuming she'll translate.

A glint catches your eye. It's a polished pompadour. "Elvis" has started to dance and mime singing.

Metis makes sure her sensors are recording the feed, as well as making a note of "Elvis'" exact location. But yes, Metis translates what Ceres said, commenting; "Just because something isn't real, doesn't mean it stops existing."

"I don't like this," Io notes, quietly. "Are we going to watch the crowds all day, or are we going to go get eaten by a giant stone face?"

_Samhain Catenae_ suddenly starts playing Blue Suede Shoes in time with "Elvis'" miming. 

":D" 

The more you play, the more it mimics, until it is able to reproduce your recording of 'Blue Suede Shoes' down to its audio flaws.

_"Looks like they're taking a page out of your books with the mimicking."_

Suddenly, it starts to come together. The blankness of their features, until they encounter new stimulus, in which it drinks. How many of them disappear and reappear. How they all make similar sounds.

They're data storage. Pages in a book. And the book is mostly blank.

What do you do?

_"It's just like_ Doctor Who _Series 4 Episodes 8 & 9! Do they have virtual reality in there too."_

"I really, really don't like this," Io is keeping her distance. "I just want to get this mission over with. Please?"

_"Okay, that episode was pretty scary to be fair, I guess maybe it's more like_ Eureka Seven _and Metis you better fucking translate this or else."_

Metis communicates to Io that Ceres is making a bunch of _very applicable_ pop culture references, and that when she gets to the point she'll make sure Io hears it.

_"But yeah we should like get eaten by a pillar or something."_

Io just sighs.

"We're stalling out. We've been watching the crowds for...like, an hour now. I'd really just like to move on. Please."

_”We're going to the core, right. Right?”_

"That seems to be the center of all this. Prominence, you're sure we'll have room to maneuver if we go down that tunnel?"

**_"I'm going to stay here and charge up my maser cannons, with my targeting software aimed directly at you. And then when you give the signal, I will shoot at you, so you have 0.5 seconds to dodge and hit your actual desired target. That's protocol."_ **

Io is already moving on, floating towards the entrance of the thing, looking into it.

_"Nice."_

You enter the mouth, and go down the throat. Several miles down you see 'people,' walking around vertically, making their way to the surface.

_"This is some trippy shit."_

You reach the core. It is suspended by the 'wicks' that you saw above. And there is a definite gravitational/cultural presence.

While it plays on your instruments, you can also feel it through the confines of your cockpit. It is mental and physical all at once. You feel something about a riddle;  **{age of death} + {doom of the gods} / {hard|thought} = {result}**

_"Oh boy, metaphysical set theory, this is my jam."_

"I- You know what? No, fuck this, fuck this cryptic bullshit, fuck this stupid planet, I am so done with this," Io pulls back one of her fists — it shimmers with the tell-tale bending of light as gravity magnifies at its edges, and Io flies forward abruptly to just fucking punch the core.

_What the fuck,_ Ceres thinks before flying across the cavern on her wings to try and grab _Loki Patera_ before she does something stupid.

Io looks back as Ceres sweeps towards her, and she does a barrel roll, flipping out of the way of Ceres' grab, and moving in to try and break everything.

_Amalthea Gossamer_ reaches out and grasps the _Loki_ before she can do any damage.

"Hey idiot! Remember that we're on this thing's home turf right now. Do you really think it's a good idea to just start punching shit when we're under several million tons of rock?"

_Samhain Catenae_ flies between _Loki Patera_ and the core, spreading her wings wide.

Io is intercepted, spiraling out as Metis clings to her.

"I don't even know what you're trying to accomplish!" Io yells over the comms, sounding frustrated. "You're all over here, poking and prodding at this… **bullshit** like it makes any sense! What's the point? It can all just fall apart tomorrow anyway! I'm not even sure why we're here in the first place!" Io struggles to get out of Metis' grasp. "We found a planet! It's got weird shit! Mission accomplished! Now we can either eliminate the threat or go the hell home!"

Suddenly, blackness fills the cavern. No light, but every sound echoed tenfold. Not even your instruments work. What do you do?

"Fuck you, Io," Ceres finally speaks in the darkness.

Io just sort of...locks up. She goes tense, and her breath hitches in her throat, and her eyes widen as if doing so could make her see better. She grips her controls tightly and goes silent.

Ceres feels out the impression of the cavern she got when she entered with her tides, and mentally attempts to track the other two by their impression on space/time.

Every push of the tides hits you like a rocking horse.

"I don't like this." Io mutters very quietly. "I really really don't like this. I want to go home."

The lights turn on again, as if to say; _‘Play nice or else.’_ Or maybe it's some other inpenetrable function.

Getting bored of waiting, Ceres thinks really hard: _Twenty Ragnarök._

You sense that you got the answer half right.

_Anyone else got anything,_ Ceres thinks, tired of Metis having to translate everything and hoping the others are just reading the fucking narrative already like sensible mutants.

Io just...curls in on herself, holding her head in both the cockpit and as the ship-self. 

"I hate this."

Ceres rolls her eyes callously.

_1981 Ragnarök._ _10,000,000,000 Ragnarök._   _100,000,000,000,000 Ragnarök_.  Ceres thinks a bunch of numbers related to extinction or change in sequence.

_9 Ragnarök?_

You get the same feeling.

"So, Ragnarök is definitely right but our numbers are off."

**_"Maybe it's got nothing to do with numbers at all."_ **

**_"This thing...is powerful enough to be a god. Who is the greatest god in all the heavens? Which great god is linked to snakes?"_ **

"I was never good at mythology. You mention snakes and all I'm getting out of this is fucking Satan." Io mutters bitterly.

_"Shiva?"_

_**"No, Ceres...but that gives me an idea."**_ You can hear the _Jatayu's_ beak scrape against the planet's surface through the comms as he tries to whisper.

_ **"Kali Ragnarök."** _

The core starts to split in two, the cavern falls away, and you're all thrown to your feet. From the depths arises a six-armed plastic giant, one hand carrying a mace with twenty sides. It seems to drink in electrons. The god nods to you all, as if to acknowledge your presence.

_"Well fuck. I don't think I would've got that."_

"I'm going to fucking punch it," Io mutters over comms.

"As long as you don't kill them, Little Flame," Ceres just manages to force out, verbally.

"If you call me 'Little Flame' again I'm going to start calling you 'Polly the Parrot.'"

Ceres laughs, and _Samhain Catenae_ laughs with her, releasing a great tear in the tides immediately surrounding.  The sound lies firmly in the uncanny valley between alien and human, and is equally harmful to both. The boundary between this world and the next. Ceres' wordless voice calls out across Time and Space and Culture, and asks to be let in. There is no chance of anything in either world standing against the ferrywoman in this position.

Brandishing a large mace, the god swoops down to strike, but you aren't sure which one is the target.

"I've still got my weapons! I'll try to keep it that way. Distract it and I'll focus on punching it really hard?" Io suggests, presumably before the god starts swinging. 

It goes after _Loki Patera_ , as electricity crackles around it. The god moves independent of thrust and momentum. It is still as a statue, but flies through space as if it were held by an invisible child's hand playing with action figures.

Io curses over the radio— and _Loki Patera_ moves. For a moment, It looks like there's another ship-self there, one that looks somewhat like the _Loki_ , but not exactly— and the two move in sync for a moment, the phantom ship-self bracing, the _Loki_ kicking off it, flying into a somersault, using that momentum to throw itself out of the way of the mace. She's still too close though— the electricity would surely hit her— Except Io does the impossible, and dodges lightning. The _Loki_ bends in ways impossible for the human form, flies between the electric bolts, and to add insult to injury, actually kicks off the mace itself, using it to propel away from the god.

You find that even as you move, you're releasing even more electrical energy into the environment, adding further to the list of impossibilities.

"I've seen better," Ceres teases Io.

As Io floats away from the god, she chuckles at Ceres' little comment. 

"From me, I bet. Let's see if I can top myself again." 

Io curls up on herself, holding her knees for a moment, and gravity ruffles around her, creating a shimmer in the air, before she rears back again, throwing her fists out to the side— and the gravity coalesces, solidifying around her outstretched arms, and creating a pair of oversized gauntlets. They look, frankly, a tad overkill, giant slabs of metal with oversized pistons of some kind, and— are those miniature tidal reactors? One could be rather glad that they aren't actually real, and are instead just phantom recreations.

_Samhain Catenae_ 's arms lie limp at her sides, leaving her active body more alien than human. But it's not enough. It's never enough. Ceres was born to be an alien, and like the majority of her Artemisian comrades, she envies those who left without her on a deep, almost primal level. It is this hunger which fuels her as her wings stretch out like a great parabolic mirror, and tear the god before her across the Roche Limit of her single-vector gravitational field, almost ripping its joints apart at the hinges.

Metis reaches out with her tides in every direction at once, she has to since the thing she's trying to interact with is all around her. Talking to the aliens isn't nearly as difficult as the Challengers would like to believe. After all, they're still human, just like _that_ instead of like _this_. It's the 'like _that_ ' part of it that makes it tricky, but Metis is better at understanding than most, in all the ways that matter.  Under the incredible force of an entire planet's tides, Metis has to force herself to not sever the connection too soon. Her voice shudders and distorts both inside her cockpit and throughout the narrative as she asks:

  _‘Why are you here? What do you want?_ ’

You get the impression that the answer to both your questions is that it wants to understand what is around it. If, however, your capacity to get impressions could be assaulted like seaspray to the face. It's not unpleasant, but it does have a tinge of roiling force that just does whatever it wants without any effort whatsoever.

_Samhain Catenae_ feels Metis reaching out to the vast thing around them, and turns three and one concerned eyes to her ex-girlfriend. _Don't overextend yourself._

The god rises up, again stock-still. In the blink of an eye, it appears before _Loki Patera_ , mace crackling so brightly that it almost blinds.

Io flips backwards, light as a feather as always. The electricity lashes out at her— but she bends in a way that seems faster than light, and the electricity is redirected, dancing across the _Loki's_ form before harmlessly jumping off. She twirls through the air, looking almost as if she was dancing.

"Hah- Alright, Nice try! My turn, now."

Io can't be stopped at this point. Io is already punching. She flies towards the god at lightning speed, and punches towards its body with extreme brute force, the force of her gravity propelling her in, propelling her fists forward.

Your pummels seem to do nothing at all. But you feel good about yourself.

"I think I may have an idea, it's a bit of a long shot but this thing is too tough to take out in a slugging match."

Io tumbles off after punching for a bit, groaning in frustration. "Can't anything ever just be simple?"

"This Asura wants knowledge, but from what we could tell on the surface it doesn't know a lot, and it's very easy to teach. If we want to beat this thing, we need to make it afraid of us. Ceres, I trust you can handle that?"

_"Cleaning up Io's messes is basically my job description."_

_"...So yeah, I can do it."_

Io grumbles over the radio. "Ugh...for fuck’s sake..."

_Samhain Catenae_ 's eight active limbs flex languidly, deflecting Io's comment.

_"I'll test the waters, first."_

The tides that are dragging back at the Asura suddenly turn violent, as if to flip them around to face her. Ceres screams right up the gravity well into whatever passes for the god's audio sensors.

The god's eyes flash in fear. You're not sure if it can hear, but it definitely is afraid.

Metis flashes back to the mandatory ‘History of the Space Program’ classes, which she is more grateful now than ever that she didn't sleep through. But as she tries to force that information into the ambient gravity in hopes that some of it will stick, she grimaces when she realizes the god is doing the psychic equivalent of putting its hands over its and screaming "LALALALALALA."

The god blinks right into _Loki Patera's_ face, going for a short poke to stun with maximum voltage.

Io rushes to dodge- but she's properly hit, this time. Io yells out over the radio as electricity shoots through her ship-self, and her arms short-circuit, the gravity around them flickering as it starts to lose cohesion. She still has the gauntlets, though. That's nice.

"Fuck!"

Io focuses, and the space in front of her shimmers.

"You want to be scared? Okay, let's try this. A carefully-engineered weapon of mass destruction. For years, mankind has been terrified of this device. The slim chance of someone having one is enough to justify going to war. And if they already have it? Then you can't touch them." 

A familiar shape materializes in front of her— a missile. 

"The nuclear bomb. A weapon to end all wars!"

Io finishes her speech, holding the nuke out towards the god, as if presenting it, after giving it her whole speech. She isn't even sure if it can understand her. It's the thought that counts.

The god blinks, visibly.

"Io, that is so fucking _you_ ," Ceres mutters.

_Round two._ Ceres drops her wings back behind her, and _pulls_ the Asura down her gravity well into her wailing maw.

The scream hits the god hard, knocking it out of its petrified state.

"Hey Ceres, do you remember that thing we tried back when we were still figuring out how to use our ship-selves? Well, I've gotten a lot better at it."

_"OMFG,"_ Ceres finger-spells.

_Amalthea Gossamer_ suddenly turns from its normal silver sheen to pitch-black. The half-cape hanging from her back stiffens and lengthens into an approximation of _Samhain Catenae's_ right-hand wings and her helm-like head narrows into a cruel beak.

_"Hot."_

"Ready when you are, let's see just how much better I've gotten."

Io is trying extremely hard to just ignore the two existentially horrifying ship-selves. She grumbles quietly over the radio and starts sweating.

Upon seeing _Amalthea Gossamer's_ transformation, the god leaps up, flipping backwards. Its feet find purchase upon what seems to be the head of a truly titanic serpent.

A great white line appears on the underside of the core. And then another, and another. All glowing in tandem. The ‘wicks’ retreat back into the core, causing the ground below you to rumble. Suddenly, the light dies, and the entire ‘roof’ falls away, emptying you all into outer space. Large sections of the mantle float away, but the core stays where it is.

The god seats itself upon the head of the snake, cross-legged and arms stretched back, propping itself up, as if in rest. The lights on its face go out. The serpent rears to face you.

_"‘This isn't even my final form,’ right?"_

"Oh, God, I really hate this."

"So as soon as we get in one solid hit in on this thing we're leaving, right?"

_"Wat,"_ Ceres finger-spells so the meme spelling is clear. _"We're taking it!!"_

Io takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I mean, I do have a nuke, like, right here..."

_"Io agrees with me too."_

"I feel like the two of you are forgetting that this thing made a shell the size of THE ACTUAL GODDAMN EARTH. There's no way we could take this thing in a straight fight now that it's stopped playing around."

_"Not with an attitude like that, you can't. As usual, stop me if you can, nerd."_

"We...We could just run?" I mean, is it going to chase us? What does it want? I mean- It's a long fucking way from home, here. Oh my god."

"Cripple it first, then run. It's not here for a fight."

"See any convenient weak points?"

"It seems to dislike loud noises."

_"Anything else?"_

"For you, I'm hoping that's enough,"

"It seems kinda...excited?" Io mutters, blinking slowly as she watches the thing just sorta move. "I think this thing thinks this is _fun._ "

_"That's because it is??"_

"So, what, do we try and impress it more?"

Ceres is already reaching out with her tides, ignoring her allies. The Gestalt Reactor behaves strangely, and almost acts like it's inviting the enemy in.

Io sighs.

"We should go. Why are we even doing this? There's literally no reason for us to be fighting this thing? We should just go and report back."

"..."

"Agreed," says Metis, and before Ceres has a chance to do something rash, _Amalthea Gossamer_ — still mimicking _Samhain Catenae_  — bearhugs her ship-self, using herself as a makeshift tidal dampener, to try and force Ceres to leave with them.

"Please..."

_"Let me fucking_ go," Ceres signs dramatically, her eyes watering as her wings beat uselessly against _Amalthea Gossamer's_ chassis. She looks like she's about to cry. For some reason.

Io takes a deep breath, and flies over to the two.

"Come on, Ceres, We really gotta go."

Ceres ignores her rival pointedly, and, forgetting her system is down, attempts to pull her poenlance out of the space between atoms. Instead, all she gets are sparking motors as her joints fail her again.

"Come on, if you keep fighting you’re just going to get hurt. Please..."

Ceres screeches from inside the cockpit. Metis must feel it bodily through the Gestalt Reactor.

"I'm. Not. Leaving," she says.

Io slips forth, and wraps her arms around both of them, and starts putting thrust in the opposite direction of the giant alien.

"Yes, you are."

_Samhain Catenae_ applies all her might to attempt to resist _Loki Patera's_ thrust, but it's not enough. She never could beat Io in a one to one flight contest.

"FUCK YOU," Ceres screams verbally at Io, and then closes all her comms out of spite.

Io doesn't try talking to her. She just focuses on getting them out of there. Io knows that this is for Ceres' own good. If nothing held her back, Ceres would be dead within a day.

Just before they get out of range, Ceres does something she knows is petty, and exceptionally cruel. _Samhain Catenae_ breaks out of _Amalthea Gossamer's_ grip, and propels her far backwards into the void of space. 

She turns her head beside _Loki Patera's_ , up, and around her shoulder, and opens her beak. And she screams.

Io pulls away, and lets go of both Metis and Ceres, floating away from the two. _Loki Patera_ is tense, and Io is visible over the vidcomm, staring forward wide-eyed, shaking slightly, and taking slow, deep breaths.

"T-That's not cool." She mutters, quietly.

Three and one eyes watch _Loki Patera_ , impassive and cool. Two mouths hang open, grinning smugly.

Io shivers in her seat, and tenses, face turning into a grimace. And then she moves forward to _punch Ceres in the face_.  The heavy metal dynamo gauntlets from before materialize on her fist— and attached to that is the _fucking nuke_ from before, and Io yells out in anger as she slams her fist into Ceres with all the force those two devices bring with it. It would have been enough to break her own arm, if it wasn't already technically broken.

Io doesn't need to see Ceres to know that she's there. Io knows the feeling of her intimately. Io knows what it's like to have her stalking her, the feeling of Ceres just out of sight, the feeling of Ceres pressed against her back. Io turns, and strikes blindly into the depths of space, even though she shouldn't, and doesn't know Ceres is there. And Io hits anyway. She catches on those wings that Ceres is so proud of, and finally clips the bird.

Ceres howls inside the cockpit in time with the klaxon that signals the emergency activation of the hexal dampeners fusing her wings back together. The Gestalt Reactor is suppressed immediately, and Ceres suddenly feels naked in the void; sightless, armless, and oh so very tiny. Her final two limbs kick out with absolute, undiluted _hatred_ for the woman before her, and aim directly for the destruction of the tidal reactor beneath the chassis.

And Io just...bends around the kick, twisting around Ceres like something from _The Matrix_. The kick flies past her, and Io spins around to try and grab onto her rival from behind.

As established before, Ceres can't beat Io in a flight contest. Io has years of experience on her rival when it comes to flying these ship-selves. And so, even as Ceres tries to squirm away, Io grabs onto Ceres and holds tight, wrapping an arm around her neck and entangling their legs together to hold her firmly in place.

The two of them float in the shadow of a continent, shed by a planet that wasn't truly real. Beyond, the alien might still be there; but they can't be seen from here. One could be forgiven for thinking that it was just the two of them, drifting in space. And Io isn't planning on letting go yet.

"Can you hear me, or are you still going to be stubborn?" Io mutters over the radio, flicking through channels to try and break through the interference and get back in contact with her rival.

As impossible as ever, even after being clipped, Ceres/ _Samhain Catenae_ 's heavy breathing can be heard softly through the void.

_Io realized suddenly that she was wasting her time and decided to throw herself into Sol's atmosphere._

_And Ceres realized that Io is quite familiar with the narrative, and that Io wasn't in the mood for this._

Io shifts, and _Loki Patera_ turns _Samhain Catenae_ around, careful to keep her grip. Io's free hand travels down Ceres' chest slowly, a single finger, dragging across her hull, looking for the cockpit release mechanism that Io knows is there. _She's coming in, and soon._

_And Ceres can feel who's in control here. Ceres can feel the narrative drifting out of her favor, because at the end of the day, with her wings clipped, Ceres isn't any better than Io, and Io has the benefit of experience. And Ceres is suddenly reminded of where that cockpit release mechanism was. Oh, it's like not thinking of pink elephants, isn't it? And the_ Loki _'s finger gingerly reaches around for it, and presses it. It looks like Ceres is finally opening up!_

At the heart of _Samhain Catenae_ lies the form of the original _Samhain Catena_ prototype. And within that lies the Gestalt Reactor. But to get to the cockpit, the vast black carapace that pools over every inch of the ship-self’s body must first unravel itself, and unravel it does. The chest-plate melts away like a river being drawn back up into a dam, and beneath it, the cockpit opens, revealing, miraculously, that there is something human about the machine after all.

The cockpit of the _Loki_ is a much simpler affair. It's just a hatch that opens up on hydraulics, and from within its depths, Io steps out, and crosses the gap. The ship-selves are so much bigger than they actually are, and their gravity keeps them alive in space. They don't need to worry about silly things like decompression. And so, Io finally steps into the depths of this disturbing machine, and looks upon its pilot with her own two eyes, and sighs. 

"Oh, you can't hide anymore, Ceres," She says a tad teasingly, giving a...sad smile? "It's really frustrating, trying to talk to you when you can just shut off the radio and cut me off."

The inside of _Samhain Catanae's_ cockpit is dark, and lit by soft red light. From the outside, it really does look like the ship is undergoing open-heart surgery. Its atmosphere feels strangely oppressive, even with the dampeners activated.

...Which, on closer examination, might have something to do with the total absence of anything bearing resemblance to actual machinery inside. Ceres is suspended at the center of the room almost like she’s crucified, arms and legs entirely swallowed up in the slimy, flesh-like substance that composes the entire cockpit.

Ceres grabs a pencil psychically and flings it at Io's face, not deigning to respond.

The pencil bops Io in the forehead, and she groans, shaking her head a bit and rubbing the spot where it landed, even though it didn't hurt. She closes her eyes, focusing hard on ignoring the warped scenery of the strange ship-self, and blushes a bit. 

"Seriously...?"

"Welcome to my humble abode," Ceres finally says, and flashes a— was that a fang? What the fuck. Okay.

Ceres remains embedded as she glowers at Io with just the one ( **cold, pale, grey** ) eye instead of the three ( **black, empty, night** ) for once.

Io sighs, and steps over, and leans on the central pillar Ceres is encased in. Io runs a hand over her face, and doesn't say anything for a long moment. 

"I just want to know what your problem is," She mutters. "I just...Don't get you. Why are you so...obsessed with going around fighting random aliens for no reason? Aren't you supposed to be all buddy-buddy with them? God, at this rate you'd make a pretty good Ares soldier."

Ceres tenses up against the control pillar.

"Of course you wouldn't understand," Ceres follows Io with her eye, and then stares through her to _Loki Patera_ behind them.

"You haven't even read the Artemisian Manifesto, have you?" she scoffs. "How can you even fight us if you don't know how we think. Idiots."

Io groans.

"Why would I even bother? I made my choice long ago, and none of the religious crap will make me change my mind," She lets those words hang in the air for a moment. 

"But you know what, you know what might make me change my mind? What _you_ think. I don't _want_ the Artemisian Manifesto, Ceres. I don't want recruitment pitches or PR bull. I want you," Io gives a stern look at Ceres, and then realizes what she just said. 

"To explain, to me, what you think," She adds at the last second, stumbling over her words for half a second.

Ceres freezes for a moment at that. Her eye returns to Io's. She smiles, despite herself, and then slowly begins to slide her body out from the nightmarish bioelectrical control system that made her seem so small at Io’s entry. As she clambers down onto the wet, pulsing floor, she speaks:

"I think...that this is a waste of time. Who cares about Counter-Terra when _we're_ the ones Earth should really be afraid of. Was afraid of. Will be—" a pause, and Ceres' hand wanders over to Io's own. "We should be whole. Can be. All of us. You and me." 

Her fingers dance lightly across calloused skin. A look from beneath heavy lidded eyes. 

"As long as you want it too."

Io frowns, and holds onto Ceres' hand.

"It is a waste of time," Io quietly agrees, and she glances away. "Who says I'm not already whole, Ceres? Why would I need... _them_ to fulfill me?" Io shifts forward, and leans over Ceres, looking over the girl. "What if I'm content, to be right here, right like this?"

Ceres' lips split into a wide grin.

"Gods, you're fucking stubborn," her expression turning serious again momentarily. "But that's why you're...uh. Why we are what we are. I didn't expect or want an easy victory." 

Ceres' eye closes. 

"There is no them. There's only us."

"Your move."

Io snorts, and gives a little grin. She leans closer, giving that same little grin.

“I’m stubborn, sure. But I always was. It’s what keeps me, me,” She gives a little chuckle. “You know, I don’t actually care about Earth,” She mutters, closing her eyes. 

“I never did. Did you know they gave me a medal? For ‘defending Earth,’ during those first few days. I threw it in a box somewhere. I don’t need their praise,” she sighs. “Honestly, I don’t care much for Ares, either. It’s just... something I have to do. The truth of the matter is... I just don’t like being told what to be. It’s kind of ironic; Artemis and Earth have that in common. Earth wanted to tell me what I couldn’t be, wanted to define my life. And Artemis tells me that I shouldn’t be like this at all. That I should be this _other_ thing. But they’re still just trying to tell me what to do. It doesn’t matter that the end goal is different.”

Ceres wraps her remaining free arm around Io's waist.

Softly, so softly, so _unlike Ceres_ , she responds.

"You don't get it. You're so wrong. We don't make anyone into anything. That's all Apollo. We're the olive branch. We're an offering," she cranes her neck around in a near reenactment of her earlier transgression — but instead, quietly whispers into the shell of her ear:

"The other option." 

"It's like air," Ceres glances down at Io's lips. 

"Like water," up at her eyes. 

"Like the night," Ceres' lips part, and meet Io's.

Io is pulled into the kiss gingerly, and for a long moment it’s just the two of them. Nothing else in the world, in the universe. Io flows into Ceres and they swirl together and for a moment it feels like they touch each other in a way that’s more real than normal—

And then it’s over. Io breaks first, looking away and closing her eyes. She grips onto Ceres’ shoulder tightly, as an anchor.

“I still think I hate you,” she mutters. “But it doesn’t matter. We don’t have to define ourselves like that, do we? We’re whatever we want to be. Love, hate, whatever. It’s all just passion. Energy,” She trails off for a moment, steps back from Ceres. 

“But I still miss her. I just want you to know that. I'm going to think about her, no matter what. No matter what we are. But... I think... maybe you’re the olive branch. That other option. But maybe I don’t trust that. Maybe I’m just being stubborn. But I’ll be stubborn forever, if it means I get to hold onto this,” she flashes a grin. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe one day you’ll prove just how wrong I am. And if that happens... I hope we still find something to fight about.”

"You know we will," Ceres smiles. " _Do_ you want to stay? Or..." she shrugs, standing sheepish in the bleeding red light.

Io sighs. “Tell you what. Let’s get home, and drinks will be on me. Then we’ll see where that goes.”

"It's a date," Ceres beams contentedly. "I mean, that sounds great."

Io chuckles, and heads back to her own ship to drag Ceres back home.

Just as you are about to leave, you look and see the core open once more. More figures emerge; a wide blue bowl floating on its own, a golden-horned man, a shadow that somehow seems feminine, a great six-fingered hand with a pulsating star in the palm. They join the six-armed god atop the great serpent and watch you leave.

Eventually, you are met by Ares and Challenger flotilla, sent to escort you home. The convoy back to the _Atlas_ is a long and boring one, and the silence is welcome.

You give your report to Heracles, who shrugs his big ol' shoulders and says that the Artemisian council will debate Counter-Earth's placement in the Wheel. You are then summarily dismissed and allowed to rest. As you bunk down for the night, a fleeting thought enters your mind, and leaves it just as quickly.

_‘Is there something we're forgetting?’_

* * *

 Somewhere on the other side of Sol, squashed between two-sixteenths of a jettisoned planet, a confused little voice squeaks into nothing at all;

**_"Did we win?"_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __  
>  **Spoils of War**   
>    
> 
> 
>   * A chunk of Telesto’s _String of Pearls_
>   * 3D-Printed Replica of Anne Dieu-le-Veut’s Tricorn Hat
>   * Herge’s Anemoi Flotilla-Issue Cap
>   * x3 Unpaid Bar Tabs
>   * Framed Photo of Counter-Earth’s 'Elvis'
>   * Scale From 'Ananta'/'Jourmangandr' (size of a regular-sized snake scale)
>   * A Kiss That Still Lingers
> 

> 
> _Thirty-three gods dance on the head of an infinitely-large pin... ___


End file.
